Written in the Stars (6 page)

‘WAIT?’ I swing around, fuelled by fury, fear and guilt. ‘What do you think I did for an entire year, Kieran? I waited for you, I waited and waited but you never came. And I understand why, I do. You blamed me for Elliot’s death. I know you said you didn’t but when you didn’t come back I knew. I bet you couldn’t bear to even think about me, let alone look at me . . .’

‘What? Bea, no! You know I told you it wasn’t your fault!’

‘I don’t want to hear it!’ I cry, putting my hands over my ears. ‘It’s too late, OK? IT’S TOO LATE!’

He lurches forward but I start to run across the beach, hands still clasping my ears as if trying to drown out the crescendo of noise that is the deafening roar of my long-buried guilt.

A young man died because of me, and I’ll never ever forgive myself. I don’t deserve to be happy. Kieran has reminded me of that. Thank goodness I realised in time.

Chapter 9

Adam expertly finishes telling an anecdote of one of our first dates that has everyone roaring with laughter and then ahhh-ing with pleasure. Then he takes my hand and strokes my ring finger with his thumb as he turns to me and raises his champagne glass to signify the end of his speech.

‘So will you join me in raising a glass to my beautiful and perfect wife, the woman I love with all my heart – the new Mrs Hudson. Thank you for
finally
agreeing to marry me,’ he says jokily and there’s a ripple of laughter and an outburst of applause as we kiss.

Once we’ve sat down, I allow myself a moment as the applause continues to take in the opulent and lavishly decorated marquee: the gold chairs complete with gigantic satin bows, the enormous crystal-encrusted chandeliers suspended from the draped ceiling, creating a stardust effect on the shiny floor. The round tables are covered in pristine white tablecloths. In the middle of each table is a jaw-droppingly gigantic floral centrepiece in a mirrored vase; lilies standing tall and gypsophila cascading like a fountain, the vase flanked by two tall white tapered candles in antique silver holders. Ornate silver-pronged candelabras sit on a fake mantelpiece behind the head table, alongside a large display of white freesias that spell out ‘Adam and Bea’. I know it is meant to be a touching detail but the effect is slightly funereal. Each guest has a blue Tiffany box at their place setting; the female guests’ contain a bracelet with one specially chosen silver charm. The men have cufflinks. It is an astonishingly extravagant detail, embarrassingly so, actually – and yet I know the blue boxes are mere drops in the vast oceanic expense of the day.

Loni winks at me. ‘So much for your low-key wedding!’ she whispers. ‘The Hudsons could have fed a small country with the amount they’ve spent on this wedding!’

Cal leans across Loni and waves an empty bottle. ‘Shis,’ he slurs. ‘Thish ish good shtuff. Thish wine is about eighty quid a pop!’ Cal’s hospital shifts mean his body clock is all over the place – and what with that and the twins’ still-erratic sleeping patterns, he’s a total lightweight these days.

He blows a kiss to Lucy, his childhood sweetheart, who is sitting with their girls, Nico and Neve, at a table far further back than I requested. They appear to have been relegated in favour of Adam’s dad’s business contacts, even though I’d specifically asked for them to be seated in front of the top table. But I don’t have time to think about it any more as just then Jay stands up, adjusts his glasses, draws out his iPad and pulls down a screen. He grins and Adam groans audibly and our guests start laughing as a picture of Adam aged three appears on it. He’s beaming brightly and is dressed in a suit and is sitting in the boardroom at Hudson & Grey.

‘My little boy!’ Marion exclaims.

‘Ahhh, my baby,’ George adds, wiping a pretend tear away before delivering his punchline. ‘It was the proudest day of my life when . . . the company was born!’

Everyone laughs and I squeeze Adam’s hand. I know his dad’s obsession with his advertising agency has always been a sore point. It’s no surprise to me that Adam ended up following in his father’s footsteps. It felt like his career path was pre-determined. George’s first love is his career, and so joining the company was Adam’s only chance to get some attention. He shares his dad’s talent and vision too – if not his passion. I know there are other things he would love to do. He told me on our very first date when I asked him. ‘Study art, paint, be a designer . . . but they’re all pipe dreams, not reality. I’m lucky to work with such inspiring people, and closely with my dad, even if sometimes it can be tricky . . .’

‘I always knew Adam was destined for greatness.’ Jay points at the screen. ‘Even at this young age he was asking the secretaries to stay late and play with him.’

‘He’s his father’s son!’ George guffaws.

‘Adam has always known exactly what he wants out of life,’ Jay continues. ‘Unlike the rest of us who seemed to veer precariously through our twenties from one job to another, one relationship to another, Adam has always known his goal: to follow in his father’s footsteps. Not just in business but in a long and happy marriage, too . . .’ I see Marion pat her coiffed hair proudly as George jokily pulls a pained face and downs his glass of red.

‘Obviously Adam has never been short of girlfriends . . .’ Jay continues. ‘We met at uni and I knew instantly that if ever a ginge like me was to succeed with the ladies, I needed to stick with a guy like Ad . . .’

‘Ain’t that the truth!’ one of Adam’s schoolfriends calls out.

‘But I was there the night that Adam met Bea,’ Jay laughs, ‘and I can assure you that no one has ever turned his head quite like her. And he’s never looked away from her since.’

‘Ahhh,’ our guests sigh appreciatively.

I glance at the table next to us and see Eliza Grey’s delicate features tighten. She is Adam’s beautiful, blonde childhood sweetheart and she’s here because she’s Robert Grey, George’s business partner’s, daughter. I’d rather she wasn’t here to be honest, and I made that clear to Marion when she was doing the guest list, but she just told me to stop being so silly and sensitive. ‘Adam and Eliza have a long history. She’s a lovely girl, the least you can do is offer her an olive branch for stealing her future husband!’ Marion had laughed, but it was a tight, forced sound.

I’d acquiesced only because I felt sorry for Eliza, which is ridiculous really. I mean she’s stunning and successful, but I know from Jay that she’s constantly living in hope that she can rewind her life and get Adam back.

I re-tune into the speech. ‘But even though Adam was sure from day one that Bea was The One it took Bea a while to be convinced.’ Jay pauses and looks around the room. ‘A long while.’ Another pause as he looks at me and winks. ‘A really,
really
long while.’ He looks over at Adam. ‘How many times did you propose again, mate? Six? Seven times?’

‘OK,
mate
, thanks for that!’ Adam grins and throws a cork at him. It’s true. He did propose to me many times. I just kept putting him off. We were too young, I said. I wasn’t ready. Why spoil something perfect? All the usual excuses – except the real one. I didn’t deserve him.

‘If you must know, Jay,’ I call, ‘playing hard to get was my ultimate game-plan!’ This is not strictly true but I can’t bear anyone to think that I wasn’t sure about marrying Adam. ‘And it worked!’ I force out a laugh as I lift up my left hand and the whole crowd laughs along with me.

Everyone except Eliza. And Marion.

‘Smile!’

Adam puts his hand over mine and we lean in to each other and beam at the photographer as we cut into the gigantic, white, five-tier cake. Each layer has been monogrammed with intricate pearl and fleur-de-lis decoration as well as an iced version of the family crest that Marion had designed especially for this wedding. It has been on all the invites, the order of service, the napkins, the tablecloths. I raise a piece of cake to Adam’s mouth and he takes a bite before covering my mouth in sweet, icing-covered kisses as everyone applauds.

Then the band starts to play and he runs his fingers through his black hair as he backs away from me towards the middle of the dance floor. Jay and some of the guys gather behind him and begin to click their fingers and step in time. I recognise the song instantly. It’s ‘The Best Is Yet To Come’ by Frank Sinatra. Adam winks at me as he dances across the room with suave, sliding moves like a latter-day Dean Martin. I laugh as Milly comes and links my arm and then leads me slowly towards him and I bashfully swing my dress to the music before he lifts me up and twirls me around. He mouths the words of the song whilst lowering me to the floor. He leans me back, kisses me lightly on the lips and then swings me commandingly across the dance floor. I throw my head back and look up at the canopy of fairy lights twinkling like stars and it is then that I know with every ounce of certainty I have that as long as I am with Adam I will see that sunshine place Sinatra is singing about. And it will be far, far away from the shadows.

And Kieran.

At midnight and on the verge of a new day and the dawn of our new life, Adam and I wave joyfully at our guests who have all spilled out onto the drive and I throw my bouquet into the waiting crowd. It’s caught by Loni, who screeches like it has burned her.

‘It’s a sign, Loni!’ I shout. ‘You’ll be next!’

‘Only in some strange parallel world, my darling!’ she calls back. ‘I’ve done my time!’ I push away thoughts of my dad and watch as she throws it again. This time Cal’s girlfriend Lucy catches it. She immediately jumps up and down and waves it in front of Cal.

Still laughing, Adam and I get in the car and settle back in the seat. Then we both turn around and wave as our car pulls away from Holkham Hall and down Lady Anne’s Drive. Everyone cheers and Milly, Jay and Cal run behind the car, waving wildly at us before they disappear into the darkness.

‘Our future starts now . . .’ Adam murmurs as he turns and looks at me.

I smile, lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. It does. It really does.

Chapter 10

As I pelt across the beach, I know I’m no longer just running from Adam, our wedding and the safe, secure life I’ve cultivated for myself since I met him seven years ago. I’m also running from my life before it. The one where my dad left me, I took risks, fell in love, made mistakes, horrible, tragic mistakes that I will never forgive myself for. Mistakes that left me paralysed.

Walking down that aisle today I realised that I’d been treading water since that summer. Not making decisions. Not following my dreams. Trying not to get pulled back to that dark, dangerous place while Adam desperately tried to keep me afloat. I think of how he has always been so good at lifting my spirits. He has this incredible capacity to remember things in detail, and whenever I’d feel myself sinking, he’d take me in his arms and start murmuring, ‘Do you remember when . . .’ before describing a moment in our lives so vividly that I’d be transported to that ‘happy place’. But the shadows – and my secret – came back. Even Adam wasn’t strong enough to stop that happening.

I can see the wedding car ahead and I scramble determinedly towards my Cinderella carriage that, by rights, should have turned back into a pumpkin but which is still, thankfully, waiting patiently in the beach car park to take me home.

I jump in and slam the car door, trying my hardest to shut the world out with it.

‘Where to, miss?’ the driver says.

‘Home, I want to go home.’

The only problem is, if home is not with Adam, where on earth is it now?

May

Dear Bea

I always think of May as the swollen, overdue belly of spring; flowers bursting along well-pruned borders like flesh against elastic. Baby-blue clematis climbing walls and fences. Sometimes it’s hard to keep yourself firmly rooted in the here and now, but May is the time to do it. After all, you’ve survived the uncertainty of early spring, which means, in theory, only bright summer days lie ahead. Try to embrace the freshness of feeling, not just in the air, but in the surfeit of colour and life that is blossoming before your eyes. It is sometimes easy to forget that even the strongest perennial and the hardiest twining climbers don’t last forever. The short-lived bridal-wreath shrub that flowers in May is a reminder of that.

So, Bea, don’t rest on your laurels expecting the weather to always be fine. Hoe old ground to stop weeds from germinating, and keep feeding and watering to encourage more growth. Night frosts are not uncommon this month, so cover vulnerable plants to protect them if temperatures drop. And always remember that a surplus of sunny days is just around the corner.

Love, Dad x

Chapter 11

Bea Bishop changed her relationship status to: ‘It’s Complicated’.

I wake up and become aware that everything hurts; my head, my throat, my ears, my skin, my heart. I sit up and try to prise my swollen eyes open, desperately pulling off clumps of thick, dried mascara so I can tentatively blink into the sunlight of a new day, a new month, a new
life
, all without Adam. I’m back here, back at home, where it all began.

Oh God.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. It’s all coming back to me now: running away from Kieran at the beach, arriving at Loni’s and collapsing into her arms as she half dragged, half carried me crying into the kitchen; and then she, Cal and Lucy trying to extract the truth from me. It had reminded me so much of that fateful night eight years ago when they brought me, a shivering wreck, home from the pier. I was in shock, not just at what I’d seen, but what I’d done.

‘Did he do something to you?’ Loni had demanded last night, just like she’d asked back then, meaning Kieran. The vehemence in her voice surprised me. Even though she’s naturally on the offensive when it comes to the men in my life, wanting to protect me, she has always loved Adam. She once told me she trusted him with my heart.

‘And that’s a big deal, for me,’ she’d added.

‘Has Adam
cheated
on you?’ she’d asked last night, unable to hide her disbelief. ‘Is that why you left him?’ I’d shaken my head; I couldn’t speak for sobs.